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About the Raﬄe
A limited number of $150 tickets will be sold. The Grand Prize winner
chooses either the $2 million house in Marin County or $1.6 million in
cash. Over 370 total prizes will be given out making the odds of
winning a prize only one in 100. Individuals who purchase two or
more tickets are automatically entered into the bonus Multi-Ticket
Drawing for $40,000 in luxury prizes. Proceeds beneﬁt Community
Action Marin, a private, non-proﬁt, social service agency serving the
needs of individuals and families in Marin County for over 40 years.

About the Dream House
The brand new, 3,000 square foot home, with 3 bedrooms and
3 baths, overlooking the bay in Larkspur, has magniﬁcent views of
Mt. Tamalpais, bay views from nearly every room, gourmet kitchen,
private elevator, lush landscaping, surrounded by open space,
shoreline and parkland—all on 1/4 acre.
OUR SPONSORS:

2;8<0C4270=645>A0;;
Loved the big focus on Bill McKibben and
the 350.org international day of action calling for
climate protection (â&#x20AC;&#x153;None Like It Hot,â&#x20AC;? Oct 21.)!
I also appreciated the listing of the events that took
place on Saturday, Oct. 24.
I only take exception to the report about the
Oct. 2 event at Sonoma Country Day School,
emphasizing gray hair three times. It was
subsequently mentioned that only a â&#x20AC;&#x153;handful of
students in the top tierâ&#x20AC;? applauded.
In fact, climate protection is a multi-age,
multicultural concern, and that was well illustrated
by the attendance in the crowd, and also at the 40
booths representing environmental groups, outside
in the lobby. For example, the opening film was
entirely focused on students, many of whom were
in the audience on Oct. 2. The Academia Quinto Sol
(green jobs training program), featured at one of the
booths, displayed pictures of youth at risk who are
being counseled about their culture, their worth to
their community and their future.
I rub shoulders with the next generation of

9 2AA2?@

activists consistently, as we work together to build
movements for sustainability, peace and justice.

341A018A:8=B70F

B410BC>?>;

bumper stickers on the back of Ford Explorers, so
with regards to changing Americaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s consumption
habits, from where I am sitting, he is failing miserably.

3D2;>70H<0:4A

B0=C0A>B0

60BB8=6>=C74?A4I
Reality check: President Obama recently flew
6,000 miles round trip to San Francisco and back on
Air Force One, a big Boeing 747, to help raise money
for a political campaign. If the president was really
concerned about global warming, why didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t he do
the video-conferencing thing? I suppose if anyone
could ever get close enough to the president to ask
him about that, he would make some comment
about pollution credits. Unfortunately, pollution
credits do absolutely nothing about the CO2
that is going into the atmosphere right now. The
pollution credit philosophy is all about building
â&#x20AC;&#x153;environmentally friendlyâ&#x20AC;? power plants at some
future point in time. President Obama campaigned
on a platform of hope and change. I was hoping
that the president would help to change Americaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s
wasteful consumption habits. I still see lots of Obama

6>CC741;D4B>E4A20C46>A84B
In your 2009 North Bay Music Awards
(NORBAYs), you split the styles of jazz and blues
and attached â&#x20AC;&#x153;R&Bâ&#x20AC;? to the blues category. I would
like to bring to your attention that, as you have
acknowledged in the past, R&B is really a category
more aligned to soul and funk than the blues.
Most, if not all, of your 2009 blues/R&Bnominated musicians are blues musicians who
would not describe themselves as R&B players.
For your 2010 NORBAY awards, would you
please consider adding an R&B/soul/funk music
classification, as you have done in the past?
You will open up the NORBAYs to the many
musicians and fans who regularly support R&B/soul/
funk bands.

9>7=A0=8B
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9DBC>=4C78A3>590HÂ˝B;4CC4A

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Vote John Reed for Fairfax Town Council. . . . John
is one of the most valuable, resourceful and capable
members of our community. . . . He is someone who
cares about our town and its future. . . . Serving as
chair of the Fairfax Volunteer Committee, he . . . is
a member of the GPAC advisory committee to the
planning commission and town council, and creator
of the Safe Routes to School program. He secured
$2.5 million for Fairfax, organizes and leads creekcleaning and brush-clearing forays, mapped publicly
owned right of ways in case of an emergency
evacuation . . . [and] helped to raise thousands of
dollars for young victims of violent crime. . . . John is
a model neighbor. . . . Everyone who knows him can
tell you a story about the help heâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s provided, fixing a
plumbing problem or leaky roof, and always refusing
to take a dime. He leads camping and sailing trips
for his sonâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Boy Scout troop. . . . He is one of the best
captains Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ve had the pleasure of sailing with. . . . In
the vein of da Vinci, Franklin and Jefferson, John
Reed is nothing less than a renaissance man. . . . He
can fix anything. . . . He has worked in the motion
picture industry. . . . This feeble attempt at describing
the man doesnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t even scratch the surface. One could
take up several pages of this newspaper to list his
contributions to the town, the entire newspaper to
list his qualifications.

Non-profit Guide
Issue Date:
November 18th
The mission of our guide
is to provide a bridge between our giving community
and our regionâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s non-profits.
We believe that philanthropy
is a lifelong commitment.
Our goal is to enlighten all
people, whether sharing
large or small donations of
time and money, to become
our region's philanthropists.

Support the
positive effects of
private non-profit
funding & the power
of small donations.

Advertise Your
Creative gift giving ideas
for your non profit.

The investment is
minimal to participate.
Call Today

707.527.1200

www.bohemian.com
THE BOHEMIAN

10.28.09-11.03.09

07

08

10.28.09-11.03.09

THE BOHEMIAN

news for Sonoma, Marin & Napa Counties

â&#x20AC;&#x153;Still the Official Newspaper of the Public Optionâ&#x20AC;?

/9.@A
y A41D8;38=605670=8BC0=

7>>:43
Dr. Michael Domeier (arms raised, center) and his team boat a great white shark near the Guadalupe Islands in this undated photo.
The animal, a female, was tagged and released.

6aTPcFWXcTFPhb

A controversial plan to hook, boat and tag sharks heads out this week
By Alastair Bland

5

ishing for great white sharks in
California waters ended 15 years ago
when legislation gave the fish full
protection from pursuit, harassment
and harm. This week, however, a
Southern California marine research group
is putting baited shark hooks in the waters
near the Farallon Islands, spurring concern
from others in the research and ecotourism
communities that the procedureâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;which
involves bringing the big fish aboard a
vesselâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;could cause injury or death to the
protected animals.
The Marine Conservation Science
Institute from San Diego County, headed
by veteran shark researcher Dr. Michael
Domeier, submitted a permit application
early this year to the California Department
of Fish and Game and to the National

Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration
(NOAA) seeking permission to catch, boat,
tag and release as many as 10 great white
sharks within the boundaries of the Gulf of
the Farallones National Marine Sanctuary
while a film crew documents the project.
The state and federal permits were both
granted, and, weather permitting, Domeier
will be fishing between Monday and Friday
of this week, according to Maria Brown,
superintendent of the sanctuary.
Brown says that multiple marine
biologists were consulted to determine
whether allowing the sharks to be hooked,
boated and taggedâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;a procedure that
Domeier has conducted on 11 white sharks at
the Guadalupe Islands off the Baja California
coastâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;could threaten the safety of the fish.
â&#x20AC;&#x153;Everyone we consulted has been very
positive about Domeierâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s research,â&#x20AC;? Brown states.
But Dr. Pete Klimley says he was among

those consulted and that he firmly warned
NOAA officials against granting the permit.
Klimley, a professor of marine sciences at
UC Davis, has conducted tagging projects on
sharks for 25 years using hand-held lances to
set the tags.
â&#x20AC;&#x153;I voiced serious concern about this issue
when they came to me. Youâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re taking an
animal thatâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s two tons and which needs the
water to support its weight, and suddenly
removing it from its environment.â&#x20AC;?
Klimley speculates that internal organs
could rupture, causing death days later, and
that unborn pups inside a pregnant female
could be squashed.
Intentional capture of white sharks in
California became illegal in 1994, and new
regulations passed in March grant them
additional protection in the Gulf of the
Farallones National Marine Sanctuary.
One of the new laws prohibits
&%

observers from approaching to within 50
meters of a white shark. Mick Menigoz,
who has hosted shark-viewing trips to the
Farallones for five years on his boat Superfish,
says that he advocated for the tightening of
protective measures for white sharks.
â&#x20AC;&#x153;We pushed for the new regulations, and
weâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ve bent over backwards for years to not
hurt or bother the sharks,â&#x20AC;? Menigoz says.
â&#x20AC;&#x153;Weâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re not even allowed to approach them,
and now theyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re letting these guys come in
and use baited hooks to catch them. Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;d be
surprised if they donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t kill one.â&#x20AC;?

Kimberly Henry

P L A S T I C S U R G E RY

MD

â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;d be surprised if
they donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t kill one.â&#x20AC;&#x2122;
â&#x20AC;&#x201D;Mick Menigoz

Domeier, who returned no phone calls
or emails from the Bohemian, aims to fit
captured sharks with advanced SPOT (smart
position or temperature transmitting)
devices. To install these, which communicate
with satellites only when the sharks break
the surface, researchers must drill a small
hole in a sharkâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s dorsal fin and bolt the tag
in place. The operation requires hauling the
animal onboard for as long as 20 minutes.
Cameras, which sources say will be filming
for National Geographic, will be rolling.
Brown of the NOAA says that SPOT tags
last longer than many existing transmitter
types and, fitted to the dorsal fins of white
sharks, could help to solve the unknowns
about their migration patterns, such as
whether the fish return to the Farallones on
a strict annual or a biannual schedule.
But Dr. Ken Goldman, now with the
Alaska Department of Fish and Game but
who tagged and studied white sharks in
California extensively in the 1990s, wonders
how significantly Domeierâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s SPOT tag
project will contribute to the existing pool of
knowledge of great white behavior, and he
wonders if itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s worth the risk. Goldman has
seen large great whites die of stress-related
causes days after capture and release by sport
fishermen.
â&#x20AC;&#x153;With great whites, itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ll take a long time
to pull them in and handle them, and thereâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ll
be a major stress factor on the fish,â&#x20AC;? Goldman
says. â&#x20AC;&#x153;Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m concerned that the sharks will be
stressed, lose their capacity to maintain their
core body temperature and die.â&#x20AC;?
Superfish skipper Menigoz sits on the
Gulf of the Farallones National Marine
Sanctuaryâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s advisory council along with
12 other individuals. The councilâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s job,
according to the sanctuaryâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s website, is to
provide â&#x20AC;&#x153;the Sanctuary manager with advice
on the management of the Sanctuary.â&#x20AC;? But
Menigoz says he was never consulted for his
opinion on Domeierâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s SPOT tagging project.
â&#x20AC;&#x153;Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m very surprised I wasnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t contacted.
At least a courtesy notice would have been
nice, but itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s been top secret. Now everyoneâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s
saying, â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;How can this be happening in a
sanctuary?â&#x20AC;&#x2122; Well, believe itâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s happening.â&#x20AC;?

wenty years ago, on Nov. 10, 1989,
the day after the Berlin Wall fell,
I saw unbridled joy in the smile of
a young East Berliner. The event
was incredible to him, and to me as a West
Berliner, too. The two of us babbled over
beers, searching for words big enough for
our feelings. We found none, so we beamed
instead. What made us, and everyone
around us, so giddy was that the future
didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t simply contain the possibility
of being different and better,
but the certainty of being so.
How it would be different
was unclear and entirely
secondary. It was our
moment in history.
The previous night,
Nov. 9, I had been
driving my rusted VW
Rabbit through a flurry
of fat snowflakes when
the news of the Wallâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s
demise came over the
radio. Momentous
events have a way of
imprinting themselves
by minutiae and for
this, it was the squeak of
my windshield wipers as I
listened in disbelief to the
fever-pitched words of the
announcer.
It seemed phenomenally
crazy that the Wall would fall
without a drop of blood or a fullfledged nuclear war. Neither the shift in
the Eastern bloc that began with Gorbachevâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;
not with Reaganâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s 1987 photo-op speech
at the Brandenburg Gate or the October
demonstrations in East German citiesâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;nor
the exodus of thousands by train through
Hungary into Austria, nor the refugees inside
the West German embassy compound in
Prague nor other unequivocal signs that
socialist East Germany had diedâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;none of it
had been able to topple the brutally unnatural
border in our minds.
History is made in an instant, but
ideology is not that adaptable. This I learned
in conversations with East Berliners during
the weeks to come. After 40 years of division
and 28 years of the Wall, we sought each
otherâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s company, brimming with curiosity
and patience.
Amazing to me, the East Germans voiced
doubts about the new, â&#x20AC;&#x153;freeâ&#x20AC;? order of things,
such as: What exactly was competition? What
was so great about ambition? My optimism
reached its limit in the ensuing debate. I
smiled a lot in my sales pitch of democracy
and found the unimpressed faces unnerving.
Belief systems, mine as much as theirs, would
have to be taken down one miserable brick
at a time and not overnight like the cement

barrier and the state with it. And then the
view changes.
The first time I walked right past the
deserted gray booths at the former border
crossing into the countryside of Brandenburg,
a landscape I had been able to see but not
touch from car or train windows traveling on
transit routes to West Germany, I could barely
control my impulse to run. For so long, I had
wanted to move freely inside this foreign state
but couldnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t. Despite all the personal freedom
the encircled, amputated island of West Berlin
provided, I wouldâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ve inevitably run into a
wall or a border.
In November 1989, I walked
across barren, formerly stateowned fields, and that
moment of openness and
discovery was precious.
Twenty years later,
those same fields are
now fenced, owned by
corporations. While
much of the East
German population
scrambled to learn
the new rules of
democracy and a free
market, corporations
and franchises
seamlessly moved
in. I questioned my
enthusiasm: What percent
of my eternal optimism
was indoctrination of the
Western kind?
East Germans had lived from
the cradle to the grave shackled to a
state that ruled by the sheer intimation
that it could, and yet many I talked to grieved
the loss of the socialist ideal, mourned the fact
that no one in this free society told them what
to do and that no one took care of them.
It sounded absurd to me at the time, but
it does less so now. These same questions,
now being raised in earnest in the Land
of the Free, are less an indication that the
dreaded socialism is coming (anyone who
thinks it is doesnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t know what socialism is
or was), but that the status quo of capitalism
isnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t really working anymore. What good is
â&#x20AC;&#x153;freedomâ&#x20AC;? if you have to work several jobs
just to stay alive, and no matter how much
you work, you never win?
As we commemorate the fall of one wall,
weâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;d do well to consider the ones we have built
and are reinforcing. Dividing lines claim more
than mere property, for all too quickly they
become symbols of self-righteous belief.

It seemed
phenomenally crazy
that the Wall would
fall without a drop
of blood or
a full-fledged
nuclear war.

Birgit Nielsen is a freelance writer and translator who
lives in Guerneville.
Open Mic is a weekly feature in the Bohemian. We
welcome your contribution. To have your topical
essay of 700 words considered for publication, write
openmic@bohemian.com.

his really does impact our lives,
whether we know it or not: a guy
named Miguel Hilario wants to be the
first tribal Amazonian president of
Peru. And he plans to get there via Sebastopol,
on a very green ticket with a very clever plan.
Like Obama, Hilario is an unlikely
candidate who appears to understand the
power of grassroots organizing. In a phone
interview, I asked him why North Bay people
should care about his campaign. â&#x20AC;&#x153;Why would
Americansâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;,â&#x20AC;? he began, then stopped and
corrected his terminology. â&#x20AC;&#x153;Why would
world citizens care about the first
indigenous Amazonian Indian
running for the presidency of
Peru? Our major platform
is the preservation of
the rainforest as a way
of combating global
warming.â&#x20AC;? Brilliant
strategy, I thought. If he
appeals to our world
citizenship, we damn
well have to care.
Especially since Peru
is one of the largest
holders of biodiversity
in the world.
â&#x20AC;&#x153;Sixty percent of
Peru is rainforest,â&#x20AC;?
explains Hilario, who
was born and raised in
the Amazon. At ago 20,
he was sponsored by Pat
Parks of Sebastopol to come
live in the United States,
where he studied at Sonoma
State University, earning an Oxford
scholarship to study politics, and
then a scholarship to Stanford where
he earned a masterâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s and a Ph.D. (Peruâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s
current president is also a Stanford graduate.)
Hilario, who lived in the Bay Area for 16 years
while remaining actively involved in his own
country, claims that past presidents of Peru
have approved the clearing of rainforest to
plant foods and corn for biofuels.
â&#x20AC;&#x153;They are destroying the forest to fuel the
cars of Europeans and Americans,â&#x20AC;? Hillario
says. â&#x20AC;&#x153;We want to preserve the Amazon
rainforest as a way of combating both global
warming and poverty.â&#x20AC;? Hilario plans to make
Peru the capital of eco-tourism, allowing
controlled development of eco-lodges and
the employment of eco-tour guides. Hilario
claims that his newly formed pluralist
party, Movimiento Pluralista del Peru, is
the first political party in that country to
promote sustainable development and
the implementation of human rights with

environmental rights. â&#x20AC;&#x153;I believe that there has
to be development, but with humanitarian
values,â&#x20AC;? he says. â&#x20AC;&#x153;Not profits only, but
improvement of the human condition.â&#x20AC;?
Apparently, a climate-harming Bush
legacy dogs all of South America. â&#x20AC;&#x153;Three years
ago,â&#x20AC;? Hilario says, â&#x20AC;&#x153;the Brazilian president
and Bush made a pact that Latin America
would go into the business of creating
biofuels to export to the U.S. so that North
Americans could be less dependent on
petroleum. Within that framework, there
is a trend to plant corn and soybeans and
sugar cane so we can convert these to biofuel
and export them to the U.S. And then
Peru signed a free-trade agreement
with the U.S. two years ago. The
Peruvian government has been
giving way to international
businesses to plant and
grow these biofuels.â&#x20AC;?
Rainforest being replaced
by Frankencrops is not
only an ugly image but a
climate-heating mistake
in the making.
â&#x20AC;&#x153;Currently Peru
has 1.2 million tourists
per year,â&#x20AC;? Hilario
explains. â&#x20AC;&#x153;We see
increasing that to
5 million per year
within five years. That
inf lux will create jobs,
from taxi drivers in
Lima to eco-lodges in the
Amazon. In our model,
everybody wins. Private
investors who develop hotels
win, tourists connecting with
nature win, dwellers in the
Amazon win a better quality of
life, and the world will win because
weâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re combating
global warming.
â&#x20AC;&#x153;The Bay Area is full of very progressiveminded people,â&#x20AC;? he continues. â&#x20AC;&#x153;I want them to
join me in this process to fight for the Amazon
through political and intellectual process. It is
not just an election in Peru. It is part of world
citizenship to preserve the rainforest, part of
serving humanity.â&#x20AC;?
There it is again, that â&#x20AC;&#x153;world citizenâ&#x20AC;? term.
Hilario plans to have a campaign office in
Sonoma County and to recruit volunteers to
work both here and in Peru. â&#x20AC;&#x153;We are asking
volunteers for fundraising so we are not coopted by corporations,â&#x20AC;? Hilario explains.

Hilario
plans to make
Peru the capital
of eco-tourism,
allowing controlled
development of
eco-lodges and the
employment of
eco-tour guides.

DaQP]2^fQ^h
Josh Silvers and Jeff Mall team up to offer two sides
of wine country cooking
By Gretchen Giles

B

ometimes the timing is just right.
Take 1959, for example, the year
that Rodney Strong Vineyards
was established. Or 1989, the year
that Tom Kleinâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s family took the
winery over. Then thereâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s 1999, the
year that chef Josh Silvers and his wife, Regina,
opened Syrah restaurant in Santa Rosa. Three
months later, chef Jeff Mall and his partner Scott
Silva opened Zin restaurant in Healdsburg. All
players celebrate significant anniversaries this
year, Rodney Strong justifiably proud of 50
years of business, the Kleins proud of 20 years
of stewardship of their iconic label, and Zin and
Syrah making their restaurateurs proud to have
endured for a decade.
Why not celebrate the old-fashioned way,
by cooking and eating and drinking andâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;
absolutelyâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;teaming up on a cookbook?
Which is exactly what Mall and Silvers
have done with Down Home : Downtown
Seasonal Recipes from Two Sonoma Wine Country
Restaurants (Rodney Strong Vineyards; $24.95),

a book that pairs Mallâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s informal Southern
and Southwestern boots-on style with Silversâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;
French- and Italian-inspired wine country
cuisine. The two restaurants reflect the two
styles, Zin eschewing table cloths and fuss for
straightforward goodness, in most cases harvested
directly from the Eastside Farm he and his wife,
Susan, maintain; to Silverâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s white tablecloths and
elaborate tasting menus, the ingredients sourced
from the best local providers.
The two chefs often collaborate for charity
events, and it was at just such a dinner, hosted
by Rodney Strong, that Klein suggested the two
create an Iron Chefâ&#x20AC;&#x201C;style partnership. Take the
same main ingredient, whether it be a chicken
or a cheesecake, and deliver it in each manâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s
inimitable manner.
Down Home : Downtown is the result of that
pairing, and it is one of those cookbooks just as
enjoyable to read as it is to open on the kitchen
counter and use. Lusciously photographed
by Alan Campbell and written by former San
Francisco Chronicle wine editor Linda Murphy,
Down Home : Downtown features recipes that a
midlevel home chef can tackle and possibly even

wrestle directly to the plate. Whatâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s more, itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s fun
to see how two different minds take the same
essential ingredients and create wholly disparate
end results.
Mall is informally hailed as the local king of
heirloom tomatoes, and wife Susan raises some
40 different varieties of chickens. The Malls give
tomato starts away at the beginning of each
summer, Jeff cures his own bacon and makes
his own sausage. Theirs is a haute back-to-theland cuisine, hand-made and hand-raised and
thoroughly delightful to them as an occupation.
Silver and Regina are urbanites, devoted to
the pleasures of the stove and the table, their
young son Jackson and the new restaurant they
are preparing to launch in his name.
Where Mall uses grits, Silver uses mascarponeinfused polenta. Where Mall does rice pilaf,
Silver does risotto. Where Silver serves fresh wild
salmon, Mall does too; he just wraps his in bacon,
a recurring ingredient and a personal obsession.
Crab will be coming into season soon and
the chefsâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; recipes for the best use of local crab
is a sterling example of the sameness and
differences provided.
&THE BOHEMIAN

ne of natureâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s perfect
foods, the bean rarely
gets its due. Reviled even in a
rhyming run that agrees that
theyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re good for your heart,
beans lack the glamorous
cachet of other produce and,
indeed, of other dried foods.

But KSRO talk-show host Steve Garner and his pal, chef
John Ash, aim to change all that by making the lowly
legume the object of their 23rd annual Good Food Hour
recipe contest.
Original, you-made-it-up-yourself bean-based recipes
must be received at the station no later than 5pm on
Wednesday, Nov. 4. Post to PO Box 2158, Santa Rosa CA
95405; fax 707.571.1097; or email steve@ksro.com for a
chance to be one of four contestants who will gather at
G&G Market on Saturday, Nov. 7, to cook their best bean
in a taste-off with judges, including Rancho Gordoâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s
own Steve Sando, a man whoâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s truly bean around. Prizes
include free wine, cooking classes, gift certiďŹ cates and
other booty. For more, go to www.ksro.com.

The new trust | Not to reason why | Scoundrels | silian rain
The month of October The Mate bar is
offering free Gourd Nite Every Wed 5pm-6:30pm
We now have Yoga every Mon & Wed from 5 to 6:30 PM
New students buy 2 classes and get one free!!!!
6782 Sebastopol Ave, Sebastopol

The Souverain Tasting Room on the square in Healdsburg
invites you to stop by and enjoy our Harvest Special,
25% off on a purchase of 4 or more wines.
Located at 308 B Center Street, Healdsburg 707-433-2822.
Open 7 days a week, 11am - 6pm

â&#x20AC;&#x153;Kudos to the owner,
Mrs. Mona Dhar, and
her brother and co-owner
Sumeer Karihaloo, who manages
the restaurant, for giving the North
Bay its finest Indian restaurant,
and to Chef Uddab for his ability
to create Indian food that

uick, what was Californiaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s
second most popular tourist
destination in the 1950s, rivaled
only by Disneyland? Hint: The
magic made there was explicitly
forbidden by Uncle Walt. If you
answered the Italian Swiss Colony
at Asti, you must be of a certain
age or one of the few visitors who
have dropped in to the recently
rechristened, time-capsule tasting
room of Cellar No. 8.

Founded in the 1880s, the ISC
attracted Italian winemaking
talent, garnered gold medals and
became among the stateâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s most
important wineries. In the 1960s,
it was familiar to television
audiences in the person of â&#x20AC;&#x153;that
little old winemaker,â&#x20AC;? and in
restaurants everywhere, straw-basket-wrapped ďŹ&#x201A;asks
of â&#x20AC;&#x153;Tipoâ&#x20AC;? were as essential as furniture. Old timers
tell of a beloved haunt where corks popped, taps
ďŹ&#x201A;owed and the party went into the night. And then the
doors closed for 20 years. The winemaking style was
out of fashionâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;the Asti facility pumped out sparkling
wines, brandy, sweet and dry wines, grappa, and even
â&#x20AC;&#x153;coffee wineâ&#x20AC;?â&#x20AC;&#x201D;but subsequent owners didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t bother
remodeling the old tasting room, they just sealed it up.
The happy result: Current owner Fosters Wine Estates
reopened a virtually intact tasting room where visitors
can walk the same wood ďŹ&#x201A;oors under Italian-Swiss
motif beams, up to the same curvy barrel-stave bar. A
barrel head on the wall bears the inscription, â&#x20AC;&#x153;Wines
mellowed in redwood,â&#x20AC;? certainly an endorsement from
another time, while photographs, souvenirs and a
California Historical Landmark placard acknowledge the
site. The displays were fun, the staff were great, and
to behold and ponder the 19th-century marble carving
of a gent in his dotage and his stocking cap, cradling
what the caption says is his â&#x20AC;&#x153;last loveâ&#x20AC;?â&#x20AC;&#x201D;a straw basket
ďŹ&#x201A;askâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;is nearly worth the trip alone. So whatâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s this
Cellar No. 8? Fosters named it for the eighth cellar of
the old buildings. Got itâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;I think. On to the wine.
Cellar No. 8 is widely available in supermarkets at
competitive pricesâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;the 2008 California Pinot Noir is
a solid sip for just $10â&#x20AC;&#x201D;but Sonoma County wines are
available only at the tasting room. No straw-covered
ďŹ&#x201A;asks, to my moderate disappointment. The whites were
aromatic representatives of their respective varietals,
while the crisp and modern 2008 Sonoma County RosĂŠ
($16) perked up my tongue; strawberry-raspberry fruit
from the nose to the lips, ďŹ nishing nice and dry.
The 2006 Dry Creek Valley Zinfandel ($20) is on the
ripe, juicy side, with sweet blackberry scents trending
to raisin; gobs of ďŹ&#x201A;avor on the woodsy, brambly palate
ďŹ nish clean and dry. The dark horse of the list, the
opaquely purple 2006 Petite Sirah ($20), has deep
plum fruit and ďŹ&#x201A;akey pastry aromas that lead to a
surprisingly lively, bright mouthful. Perfetto! Or so says
that little old winetaster, me.
Cellar No. 8, 26150 Asti Post OfďŹ ce Road, Cloverdale.
Open daily 10amâ&#x20AC;&#x201C;5pm. Tasting fee $5; 10 percent off
bottle purchase. 866.557.4970.

very year, we host a writing contest
aptly named â&#x20AC;&#x153;Jive,â&#x20AC;? in which we start
a story and you finish it. After a
heated discussion over who was the
more important writer for 2009â&#x20AC;&#x201D;
Walt Whitman or Dan Brownâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;we
wearily relented to Brownâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s bestselling genius
(or rather, his genius at bestselling). Plus, even
weâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re not so hard-hearted that we could enjoy
making fun of Whitman.
(Plus-plus: poetry. )
Readers Danned their best Brown by finishing
our riveting, sure-to-be a bestselling story based
on a movie by Ron Howard in 500 words or less,
and we thank them for it. We celebrate the five
winning writers, everyone who entered the contest
and Bohemian readers in general next Wednesday,
Nov. 4, at 6pm with an open reading of these
witty treasures at our offices. This emphatically is
a dessert-before-dinner dealie (I bake a cake), and
is entirely cryptex-optional, but please RSVP at
707.527.1200. See you at 847 Fifth St., Santa Rosa.
â&#x20AC;&#x201D;Gretchen Giles

The Lost Digital Da Vinci
Fortress Symbol
Bob Lamedum stepped briskly out of the
Louvre and glanced around. Located at 34 Rue
du Louvre 75001 Paris, France, the building was
impressive, even to a markology professor from
a leading California State University. The April
morning was fresh and inviting, but Bob was late
for an appointment with his sometime mistress,
the celebrated astrophysicist-cum-pole dancer
AngĂŠle DĂŠmon. From there, he planned to meet
his mentor, the prominent Odd Fellow and secret
tax-dodger Solomon Mines. His phone rang.
â&#x20AC;&#x153;Darn thing,â&#x20AC;? Bob thought. â&#x20AC;&#x153;How do I work this?â&#x20AC;?
The phone was new, a gift from AngĂŠle, and
Bob was still unused to its flip-top feature.
â&#x20AC;&#x153;Hello?â&#x20AC;?
â&#x20AC;&#x153;Bob!â&#x20AC;? AngĂŠle cried, for AngĂŠle it was.
â&#x20AC;&#x153;Solomon has been brutally kidnapped! You must
return to California to find him!â&#x20AC;?
Twelve hours later, Bob was in Solomonâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s

Santa Rosa home. Looking around, he fondly saw
that his friendâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s favorite touchstones were proudly
displayed: a laminated parking ticket, a glass
artichoke tumbling from a cornucopia, a sculpture
of a sideways hand set nicely on the piano.
But wait. Two items of the five were missing.
Could they have anything to do with
Solomonâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s brutal kidnapping? Bob leaned against
a bookcase and felt it give, revealing . . .
. . . what looked like a dark room with oddly
shaped straps hanging from crisscross clotheslines.
Against the walls stood glass-paneled closets,
stacked with folded items in all colors of the
rainbow. Bob, being a professor, knew immediately
that he was in the presence of the worldâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s largest
treasure trove of classical chastity belts. There
were, for instance, the rough-hewn 12th-century
specimens worn by women whose husbands had
left on crusades to Jerusalem; a pretty nothing for
Catherine de Medici; a replica of the fancy
Bellifortis model for Queen Elizabeth I; and an
early Tollyboy design that had inspired Benjamin
Franklin to invent the lightning rod.
'+
THE BOHEMIAN

10.28.09-11.03.09

25

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Across the room was a table loaded
with books, scrolls, photographs, a pocket
mirror and a purchase order from a vendor
in Haifa, written in Aramaic. â&#x20AC;&#x153;Eureka,â&#x20AC;? Bob
said to himself in perfect Greek, â&#x20AC;&#x153;thatâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s
where Leonardo got his cockamamie idea
of backwards writing, and the reading
mirror is Solâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s touchstone number four.â&#x20AC;?
Holding it slanted against the order slip, Bob
read aloud, translating from the Aramaic:
â&#x20AC;&#x153;Chastity belt, model Fortress, for Miss Mary
of Magdala, to be delivered before Christmas,
32 A.D.â&#x20AC;?

Could they have anything to do with
Solomonâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s brutal kidnapping? Bob leaned against
a bookcase and felt it give, revealing . . .
. . . a brace that had become looseâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;loose
enough to dislodge the Five Books of Moses,
each landing separately on the toes of
Bobâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s right foot. As Lamedum lay spreadeagled on the floor staring up at the ceiling,
enjoying the flash of pain clearing his mind,
he recalled the two missing touchstones.
There was a 12-ounce bottle of Pepsi-Cola,
bronzed by an itinerant baby-shoe peddler,
but the second artifact was far more
precious. A green lucite desk lamp depicting
a naked Britney Spears, hands together in
supplication, head inclined heavenward.
Two laserlike beams from Spearsâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; nipples
illuminated a spot on the bookcase where
the Five Books had reposed. Where the
books had stood, there was a small piece of
paper. A Post-It! Someoneâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s shaky hand had
scrawled, â&#x20AC;&#x153;Tween the Churches.â&#x20AC;?

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26

pole dancer, the California State University
professor and the Prius were smashed by
an 18-wheeler from Shasta, and it remains
only to report that Solomon had used his
fifth touchstone, passĂŠ-partout and lost
symbol of every womanâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s freedom, invented
by Leonardo da Vinci for Mona Lisa but
designed to open all model Fortress chastity
belts and any other lock, and freed himself
from the heater.â&#x20AC;&#x201D;Wulf Rehder

â&#x20AC;&#x153;If thatâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s so,â&#x20AC;? Bob mumbled to himself.
â&#x20AC;&#x153;What then, prof ?â&#x20AC;? continued albinoblonde AngĂŠle DĂŠmon, suddenly behind
him and pressing a gun into his lumbar
region.
â&#x20AC;&#x153;Then Mary Magdalene wasnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t Jesusâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; wife,
nor the mother of his daughter Sarah . . .â&#x20AC;?
â&#x20AC;&#x153;Yep,â&#x20AC;? said AngĂŠle, â&#x20AC;&#x153;the foundations of
the da Vinci Code would collapse and the
damn book would be a total fraud. Thatâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s
why those religious junk publishers have
bandied together, paying me to end this
eff-ing research into reading mirrors and
chastity belts.â&#x20AC;?
From her disdain of research, Bob
realized that her doctorate in astrophysics
was only a mail-order degree.
Outside, a muscular editor from
Doubleday was at the wheel of a Prius, and as
they were driving to the Odd Fellowsâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; lodge
in Sebastopol, where Sol was padlocked to a
heater, Bob said to the driver, â&#x20AC;&#x153;This reminds
me of the worst sentence in the book: Almost
inconceivably, the gun into which she was now
staring was clutched in the pale hand of an
enormous albino with long white hair. Only she
is now me. You should have done something
about almost inconceivably and into which.â&#x20AC;?
â&#x20AC;&#x153;Shut up,â&#x20AC;? said the pole dancer, â&#x20AC;&#x153;whatâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s
with Solâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s three touchstones?â&#x20AC;?
â&#x20AC;&#x153;Oh, those,â&#x20AC;? said Lamedum, â&#x20AC;&#x153;they
reminded him of the day he arrived in Santa
Rosa. He got a parking ticket on Fourth
Street, went to the Wells Fargo Center
to hear Jeffrey Kahaneâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s piano recital and
enjoyed a cornucopia of wine, fruit and
artichokes with me afterwards.â&#x20AC;?
Suddenly, the muscular editor, the

Mines had been losing it for months,
reflected Lamedum. Any normal soul would
post on the fridge, but being an Odd Fellow,
Mines had to be different.
Vowing to enter Valhalla and â&#x20AC;&#x153;conquer
Thorâ&#x20AC;? had been his latest obsession. Heâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;d
immersed himself in mythology, the Middle
Ages, and Scrabble since his adolescence in
Bruges, and his megalomania was growing
beyond control. Bob crawled outside, and
hailed a taxi downtown to the Moon of
Uranus to consult with AngĂŠle, who was
working the pole on the magnetic north side
of the dance floor.
Arriving late, he sat to the side of the

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stage where the pole had taken on a peculiar
sheen. “Sweat from her inner thighs,” Bob
mused before discerning, in the pole’s
reflection, the image of a bearded bald man
in a white smock who looked eerily familiar.
Thinking about the Post-It, he had a brilliant
revelation. Britney and the Pepsi bottle were
absent, but the clues they left remained.
The letters P-E-P-S-I C-O-L-A floated
about his brain and became . . . EPISCOPAL!
They had churches, surmised Bob. And
B-R-I-T-N-E-Y S-P-E-A-R-S . . . was an anagram
for PRESBYTERIANS! Now “Tween the
Churches” made more sense!

If he could just locate the churches which
stood near each other, perhaps he could find,
likely still obsessed with murdering Thor, the
immutable Solomon.
Maintaining close ties with clergy
and astronomers, Angéle had no trouble
uncovering the two churches that Mines
must have been alluding to. A few
professional offices stood between them,
and they scoured the lobby directories
for another clue. They saw optometrists,
podiatrists, a proctologist and a dentist.
Could Mines be nearby? The revelation
jolted Bob’s mouth like a root canal.
“Of course!”
Tearing upstairs, he heard in his mind
Solomon’s lisping voice. He wasn’t out to
conquer Thor—he was talking about a
cankersore!
And there he was, asleep in the dental
chair, a bald bearded man in a smock
hovering over him. Bob recognized the IRS
agent-cum-dentist immediately. He’d found
Solomon, but it was too late. Tomato juice

stains on his shirt, his wallet empty, Mines
was no more than a shell.
His number in Folsom prison ended in
a “nine.” For the next 10 years, Mines would
indeed be an “odd” fellow.—Stephen D. Gross
Could they have anything to do with
Solomon’s brutal kidnapping? Bob leaned against
a bookcase and felt it give, revealing . . .
. . . a marking on the wall.
Bob crouched for a closer look.
“In all my years of markology, I’ve never
seen the like! Whoever did this draws about
as well as I can.”
Which was to say it was utterly indecipherable.
Bob whipped out his notebook. A sultry
voice interrupted his scribbling.
“What are you doing there, Bob?” said
Angéle.
He hadn’t expected her, but there she was
standing in the doorway.
“Oh hi, love,” he said distractedly. “Just
found a clue from Solomon. Don’t know
what it means, though. Two touchstones
are missing.”
“Not unlike your personal pronouns,”
Angéle quipped. “Might you be referring
to these?” She handed him the objects in
question: a gold-enameled crab claw and
a cryptex.
Bob jumped to his feet. “But how did
you . . . ?”
“I received them in the mail along with
this sealed note.”
Bob finger-scissored the envelope and
read: If you want to see your beloved mentor
alive again, you might find a visit to San
Francisco worth your while.
Faster than one could say “Knights
Templar,” Bob and Angéle were standing
before an old Victorian-style mansion. They
rang the bell and the front gate opened
automatically. They made a cautious approach
to the front door and slipped inside.
“Stay on your guard,” Bob whispered.
Just then, a cry for help.
“Bob! I’m in here!”

It was Solomon.
They traced his voice to the kitchen,
only to find Solomon bound hand and
foot to a chair. Curiously, he was covered in
doughnut crumbs.
“What’s happened to you? Are you all
right?” said Bob as he rushed to undo the ropes.
“They’re never going to get away
with this. If they think force-feeding me
doughnuts will make me squeal, they’ve got
another thing coming!” Solomon fumed.

Knowing how sensitive he was about his
figure, Bob and Angéle kept silent.
“My captors number three,” Solomon
continued, “and they’ll do anything to get
their hands on my grandfather’s horde. This
used to be his house, you know. I trust you
uncovered my message?”
Bob nodded.
“Where’s the treasure, then?” said Angéle
from behind a pulled gun. Three men were
instantly beside her.
“Angéle! Are you mad?!”
“A far cry from a dance pole, I know,” she
said with a wave of the gun. “But it gets the
point across nonetheless.”
“So it was you all along!”
“Who else? I’ve been chasing Solomon’s
treasure for years. Now, monsieur, if you
would be so kind?”

“The two missing items were a tiny
replica of Rodin’s Thinker and a miniature
folding metal chair,” said Lamedum. “But
what do they mean?”
“The laminated parking ticket represents
punishment for occupying a space too long.
The glass hand’s thumb and forefinger
configuration suggest feeding a mouth
something . . . like a potato chip.”
“Or an artichoke leaf ?” Angéle offered.
“Good, good! Now consider the posture
of the Thinker—it’s as if he is taking a
constitutional.”
“Yes, but what about the chair?” asked
Angéle. “If the Thinker were seated upon
the flat, metal chair while attempting a
constitutional, the chair’s adhesion would
result in maximum flatulence amplification.”
“But how do these clues tie together?”
“The parking ticket indicates the Thinker
was taking too long to perform his business.
If taking too long results in a punishment,
i.e., Solomon’s being crushed, then what’s
the opposite of taking too long between
flatulence emissions?”
“Rapid-fire flatulence.”
“Excellent, Angéle! By eating artichoke
leaves while sitting bare-bottomed on a
metal chair one would emit rapid-fire, or
staccato, flatulence emissions . . . “
“The Staccati!” gasped Angéle with
exhilaration.

“Fine. The mark I left you is a map. It shows
the treasure’s exact location,” Solomon said.
“Of course!” Angéle was gone in an
instant, followed by her henchmen.
But all too late. The police were waiting.
Bob and Solomon emerged into the
daylight and waved as Angéle was cuffed and
taken away.
“Looks like the adventure’s ended before
it even began,” Bob said.
“Speak for yourself. I’ve still got 10
pounds of doughnuts to work off !”
Bob held out the cryptex with a smile.
“Care for an A-P-P-L-E instead?”—A+T
Could they have anything to do with
Solomon’s brutal kidnapping? Bob leaned against
a bookcase and felt it give, revealing . . .
. . . a secret chamber. Lamedum brushed
through the cobwebs, held a lit candle before
him and entered. He touched his candle’s
flame to another in the room’s corner; its
wick linked with 300 others, and instantly
illuminated the room. Solomon Mines
was tied down to the floor behind a thick
plexiglass wall; a steel cable slowly lowered
an enormous steel weight toward his chest.
Lamedum’s eyes followed the cable to the
gear that controlled it. Attached to the
gear was the combination scroll. Lamedum
noticed folding metal chairs and artichokes
piled in the corner.
Bob glanced at Solomon. “Solve the
code!” Solomon silently mouthed from
behind the wall. Angéle Démon slunk from
the shadows like the pole dancer she was.
“I found the entrance earlier—we must
help him,” she said.

“Precisely. We must both assume the
position to hit the right combination of
staccato emissions to activate the scroll and
stop the gear from lowering the weight onto
Solomon. Quickly, pull down your pants—a
man’s life is at stake!”
Lamedum and Démon exposed their
bare bottoms and sat on two nearby metal
chairs. They then grabbed artichokes and
nibbled the flesh from the leaves. Rapid
successions of popping reports resounded
from buttocks against metal chairs. Solomon
looked desperate as the weight descended to
an inch from his chest.
“Again, hurry!” commanded Lamedum.
They grimaced and nibbled more
artichoke leaves. Machine-gun-like
effluviums burst forth into the room.
' -

THE BOHEMIAN

10.28.09-11.03.09

27

',

98E41A>F=

â&#x20AC;&#x153;Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s working!â&#x20AC;? cried DĂŠmon.
The cylinders on the scroll spun and the
weight stopped. The remaining tumblers
aligned; the symbol fragments spelled out
S-T-A-C-C-A-T-I, and the plexiglass wall slid back.
Lamedum and DĂŠmon rushed into the
room, their pants around their ankles, and
untied Solomon Mines.

door lock and stepped behind the flocked
velvet drape. Dust tickled his nose, but
before he sneezed, AngĂŠleâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s perfume assailed
his nostrils. Heâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;d know that pole-dancer
anywhere, even in the dark.
â&#x20AC;&#x153;Thank God itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s you,â&#x20AC;? he said. â&#x20AC;&#x153;The
Fox News antichrist poster is behind the
bookcase, and it holds the secret of Solomon
Minesâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; kidnapping.â&#x20AC;?
â&#x20AC;&#x153;Whereâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s the computer?â&#x20AC;? AngĂŠle was on
it. She was the master of Youtube, the logical
place to find any conspiracy relating to
politics and the church.
â&#x20AC;&#x153;I havenâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t been able to find it,â&#x20AC;? Bob
admitted, aggressively scratching his head.
AngĂŠle smiled knowingly as she picked
up an enormous fluffy, orange Persian,
revealing Solomonâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s laptop computer. Bob
had seen the cat but thought it was some
kind of bath mat.
â&#x20AC;&#x153;Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s still warm,â&#x20AC;? Bob told her. â&#x20AC;&#x153;Solomon
canâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t have been gone that long if he just used
the computer.â&#x20AC;?

â&#x20AC;&#x153;Thank God, Lamedum, you saved my
life!â&#x20AC;? Mines said. â&#x20AC;&#x153;The Staccati were sure you
could never solve such a ludicrous code and
their secret would be safe forever.â&#x20AC;?
â&#x20AC;&#x153;Never underestimate a markologist,â&#x20AC;?
Lamedum said, pulling up his trousers.
â&#x20AC;&#x201D;Wray Cotterill
Could they have anything to do with
Solomonâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s brutal kidnapping? Bob leaned against
a bookcase and felt it give, revealing . . .
. . . a life-size poster of Barack Obama. Bob
stared at it for a few minutes until he found
what he was searching for.
The perpetrators had left a clue. In the
bottom right corner of the poster was the
Fox Newsâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; symbol for the anti-Christ: a bolt
of lightning.
Talking to himself, the best way to solve
any mystery, Bob said, â&#x20AC;&#x153;Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s common knowledge
that Jesus spoke Aramaic, but not everyone is
aware that he also knew Hebrew. Since the
Bible, which was written in Hebrew as soon
as the Phoenicians discovered clay tablets,
predicts the coming of the antichrist, we can
follow the derivation and translation of the
words. The Bible says the antichrist will come
from the heavens, so it becomes obvious that
the original word for light (from the sky),
â&#x20AC;&#x153;barach,â&#x20AC;? has evolved into â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;Barack.â&#x20AC;&#x2122;â&#x20AC;?
Bob congratulated himself for
discovering the clue so quickly. As soon as he
could find his mentorâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s computer heâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;d have
the answer to his whereabouts. Easier said
than done. After a frantic search through the
dark house, he found the light switch. It was
of no avail because even with more light, the
computer was missing.
He heard the click of a key in the front

28

10.28.09-11.03.09

THE BOHEMIAN

â&#x20AC;&#x153;I think the cat just used it. How do you
spell â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;Barackâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;?â&#x20AC;?
â&#x20AC;&#x153;Let me go back to the poster and Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ll
tell you.â&#x20AC;? He struck his forehead. â&#x20AC;&#x153;Wait!
Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m so stupid. Solomon is being kept in the
White House.â&#x20AC;?
â&#x20AC;&#x153;Hmm. It wonâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t be easy,â&#x20AC;? AngĂŠle said,
â&#x20AC;&#x153;but I think with the right credentials we can
gain access. Just so you know, Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m not entering
any building through the sewer again.â&#x20AC;?
Whipping two press passes out of his
tweed jacket, Bob waved them in front of her.
â&#x20AC;&#x153;This time weâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ll enter in style.â&#x20AC;?
â&#x20AC;&#x153;Uh, I think those were for a Led
Zeppelin concert, Bob.â&#x20AC;?
â&#x20AC;&#x153;No worries, with a little Clorox, ink and
a Xerox machine, weâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re in business.â&#x20AC;?
It turned out to be unnecessary. Solomon
had been abducted because he translated
a document on Youtube, claiming the
president was the antichrist.
It was a simple matter to create another
video proving that â&#x20AC;&#x153;barachâ&#x20AC;? actually meant
â&#x20AC;&#x153;healthcareâ&#x20AC;? in Aramaic. So the White House
had no further use for keeping Solomon prisoner.
â&#x20AC;&#x153;Weâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re so smart,â&#x20AC;? AngĂŠle gushed. â&#x20AC;&#x153;When
this is over, maybe we can make some more
like us.â&#x20AC;?â&#x20AC;&#x201D;Carol Collier

3.99
96A

;^RP[;Xc

Our twice-yearly look at what
the neighbors are up to
By Suzanne Daly, Gretchen Giles,
Gabe Meline and Tori Masucci

0

lmost murdered by her father at age
three. Her throat slashed. Witness
to her sistersâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; murders. Her mother,
grandmother and aunts violently
killed. Carmina Salcido is a survivor. Many
have read the numerous stories of RamĂłn
Salcidoâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s deadly Sonoma County rampage
two decades ago, but few know the aftermath.
In â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;Not Lost Forever, My Story of Survivalâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;
(William Morrow: $25.99), Carmina Salcido
describes her arduous road from victim to
survivor with co-author Steve Jackson.
Carminaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s story extends far beyond her
brush with death. Given up for adoption
by her grieving grandfather, the feisty little
girl joined a family deeply ingrained in an
ultra-strict, cultish Catholic organization
Tradition, Family and Property. Isolated
on a Midwestern farm, she was deprived of
anything resembling a normal childhood
and instead endured much abuse at the
hands of her adoptive, alcoholic parents.
â&#x20AC;&#x153;Escapingâ&#x20AC;? at age 17 to a Carmelite convent,
she suffered from numerous physical and
mental-health problems that landed her
in the hospital. Deemed unfit for convent
life, she was sent to a ranch in Idaho for
troubled teen girls. Carmina and the other
girls there endured more abuse, until she
made her break for freedom at age 18.
Contacting the grandfather who had been
excluded from her life by her adoptive
parents, Carmina reconnected with her past.
Now back in Sonoma County, she has
investigated and confronted the events
that placed her on such a tough road,
contacting family, friends and members of
law enforcement and the press who could
help shed light on her early life. The bookâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s
short chapters read cleanly, and the 16 pages
of color photos trace a full life lived in 23
short years. This resilient young woman
has reached a level of understanding and
forgiveness few would be able endure, let
alone come out of with compassion and
normalcy. Not Lost Forever is a testament
that leaves readers with hope and
admiration for Carminaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s survival.â&#x20AC;&#x201D;S.D.

F

ith her previous novel, The Great
Far Away, a fictional memoir of
idyllic bohemian life in Northern
California, Santa Rosa author Joan Frank
established herself. Her latest, â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;In Envy
Countryâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; (University of Notre Dame Press;
$20), collects short stories published in
journals around the country, from the
Seattle Review to the Baltimore Review and

points in between, including Notre Dame
and Chautauqua. Opening with â&#x20AC;&#x153;A Note on
the Type,â&#x20AC;? a detailed, engrossing story of a
conniving employee at a printing company
who ascends from file folders to far-flung
affairs, Frankâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s stories follow those in the
throes and woes of love and life. With one
eye inside the workings of her characters
and one observing from afar, In Envy
Country sets a Raymond Carver toneâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;a
character from â&#x20AC;&#x153;Betting on Menâ&#x20AC;? is even
named Carverâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;without the rampant selfannihilation and morbidity.â&#x20AC;&#x201D;G.M.

8

n the classic love story, two people find
each other, overcome their dilemmas
and fall in love. Yet Penngrove author
Linda Loveland Reid, winner of the 2008
Redwood Writers Club contest, illustrates in
her novel â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;Touch of Magentaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; (BookSurge
Publishing, $18.99) that love is never that
simple. The plot, weaving together the lives
of two women whose pasts are veiled in
secrecy, is actually antithetical to the classic
romance. Set in Californiaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Gold Country,
as well as San Francisco, Chinatown,
Sacramento, Singapore, Italy and England,
Reidâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s novel follows the tale of Corri
Montclair, who in 1971 uncovers a shocking
mystery in the pages of her dead motherâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s
will, sending her on a life-altering quest to
discover the ghosts of her hidden past.
Montclairâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s story is entwined with
that of Pegeen Oâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;Connor, who falls into
a shadowed romance with a Chinese
boy against the racial constraints of 1895
California society. Reid paints a suspenseful
portrait as Corri labors to solve the
mysteries of her past, eventually crossing
paths with the consequences of Pegeenâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s
deeds and the fate that brought their stories
together, though separated by time. Touch of
Magenta journeys into the unknown spheres
of human nature and the way parts of our
identities are determined by a compelling
desire to untangle our pasts.â&#x20AC;&#x201D;T.M.

1

etween the rounds of housework
and homework, a parentâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s own life
can quite easily slip away. But when
the child leaves for college and the house
is quiet for the first time in some 18 years,
a parentâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s slipped-away life often becomes
a massive void that bewilders. And so it is
with Nora, the heroine of Santa Rosa author
J. C. Millerâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s novel â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;On the Brink of Noraâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;
(Redwood Writers; $16). But Nora is not
alone, sharing the book with her husband
Eric and daughter Dani, each of whose
stories are told in alternating chapters as
the reader gets an omniscient view of the

life of one small Sonoma County family as
they handle the dread empty nest, the dread
midlife crisis, the dread adultery and even
the dread growing-up-and-moving-away
transition of young adulthood. Millerâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s
characters are people we know because they
are usâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;fallible, astray, searching and trying
to do what is honorable and right in this
one single life we are given.â&#x20AC;&#x201D;G.G.

<

arin County evokes images of
rugged Northern California
coastline, quirky hippie towns,
Mount Tam, nouveau rich and, yes, hot
tubs. â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;Visions of Marinâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; (Color and Light
Editions; $39.95) vividly illustrates those
evocations and many more through the
luminous photography and descriptions of
Inverness author/photographers Richard
Blair and Kathleen Goodwin.
Marin residents for 30-plus years, Blair
and Goodwin have long rambled the
roads and recesses of their home turf.
Their photographs range from panoramic
landscapes to the miniscule detritus found
among beach jetsam. Short histories record
local characters, events, buildings and foods,

and landscapes punctuate the 415 (mostly)
colored photographs in this coffee-table
tome. The impressive detail and quality
exhibited throughout the book is evidence
of a labor of love from the husband and
wife team.Visions of Marin will be a welcome
addition to libraries of both locals and
California dreamers.â&#x20AC;&#x201D;S.D.

9

oel Kramerâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Passionate Mind, originally
published in 1974, offered an informed,
intellectual whole-life theory of living
self-reflexively in the moment, and became
a â&#x20AC;&#x153;life handbookâ&#x20AC;? for many of the age of
enlightenment. This year, Kramer, a Bolinas
resident, with co-author Diana Alstead,
offers â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;The Passionate Mind Revisitedâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;
(North Atlantic Books; $16.95), a complete
reworking of the original. To live in the
moment, Kramer and Alstead clarify, we
as a species must have a cognizant grasp
of both our past and our future. Unless
we can expand our awareness to a broader
social rangeâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;making our ego work for the
planet, changing our detached mindset and
questioning our beliefs, for exampleâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;our
future will be bleak indeed. Rife
(%

7^f3ahCWThFTaT

Prohibitionâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s history of hardship in the wine country
Prohibition caught the winemakers of Sonoma and Napa counties by
surprise. Until the Volstead Act was actually passed in October 1919, few
thought it would extend beyond hard liquor to include beer and wine, nor did
Californians, who widely opposed the efforts of the Anti-Saloon League, expect
their state legislators to vote to ratify the 18th Amendment. They were wrong
on both counts.
The events that followed are the meat of Vivienne Soznowskiâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s meticulously
researched history, When the Rivers Ran Red: An Amazing Story of Courage and
Triumph in Americaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Wine Country (Palgrave Macmillan; $26.95). A part-time
Healdsburg resident and former journalist with the Washington Examiner and
the San Francisco Examiner, Soznowski has drawn on oral histories from aging
survivors from those harsh years as well as contemporary newspaper accounts
to craft her account of â&#x20AC;&#x153;14 years of real trial,â&#x20AC;? as they played out across the two
wine counties.
Surprisingly, the first years were boom times. A pre-existing law, unaffected by
Prohibition, allowed anyone to make up to 200 gallons of wine for their own
use. Local growers soon realized â&#x20AC;&#x153;there was this incredible demand for grapesâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;
in New York and Chicago and Atlanta,â&#x20AC;? Soznowski relates. â&#x20AC;&#x153;So instead of selling
the wine readymade, they were selling grapes across the nation so that people
could make their 200 gallons.â&#x20AC;? Prices soared from $25 per ton to 10 times that
amount, until the Central Valleyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s table grape growers flooded the market with
their own newly planted wine grapes, and, Soznowski writes, â&#x20AC;&#x153;the market just
crashed and burned.â&#x20AC;?
Bootlegging became a way of life for many families as they struggled to
survive, but their carefully preserved vats of aging wine were constantly at risk.
â&#x20AC;&#x153;The Prohibition agents would come up with their guns and just pull the
plugs on these wonderful old redwood vats of wine,â&#x20AC;? the author recounts
indignantly. â&#x20AC;&#x153;The wine would run everywhere, over gardens, through fields, it
ran into ditches, down into the little creeks and then into rivers,â&#x20AC;? providing her
book with its title.
â&#x20AC;&#x153;People lost fruit trees, and their gardens were wrecked,â&#x20AC;? she continues, â&#x20AC;&#x153;and of
course they lost this amazing resource, the one major movable asset in their lives.
Millions of gallons of wine, it was just lost, all their hard work, lost.â&#x20AC;?
Also lost was a generation of winemaking knowledge and experience, she
writes, a deficit that took the regionâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s industry â&#x20AC;&#x153;decades to get back to perhaps
where it might have been.â&#x20AC;?

Bruce Robinson

THE BOHEMIAN

10.28.09-11.03.09

29

EVERYONEâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;S GOT AN OPINION

Harmony was
a capitalist
plot to sell
â&#x20AC;?
pianos!

â&#x20AC;&#x153;

'.

;8CA>D=3D?

with Kramerâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s roots in yoga, science
and comparative religion, The Passionate
Mind Revisited is a vigorous read for those
disenchanted with sacred cows.â&#x20AC;&#x201D;G.M.

8

-THE COMPOSER

UNTITLED-THEMOVIE.COM â&#x20AC;˘ IN THEATERS NOVEMBER 6

n â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;Walks: Best Poemsâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; (Footprint Press;
$15), Greenbrae poet B. J. Stolbov invites
his readers to stroll beside him as he
journeys through manhood. Stolbov is
often subtle, employing a careful, conscious
meter when threading the emotion of
love through his poems; he is also often
chaotic, detailing an anthill that buzzes with
hurried life. Either way, his work is defined
by precise thoughts, brief moments in time
that account for a larger social commentary
on the pursuit of spiritual fulfillment or the
larger American dream. A keen glimpse into
the poetâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s mind, Walks is a compilation that
follows Stolbovâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s clear message, â&#x20AC;&#x153;It is my
work / This being a wandererâ&#x20AC;? through both
writing and life itself.â&#x20AC;&#x201D;T.M.

8

f it werenâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t for Kurt Cobainâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s ghastly
suicide on April 5, 1994, the trope of
the rock starâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s untimely death might
have receded into distant memory. David
Comfortâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;The Rock and Roll Book of
the Deadâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; (Citadel Press; $15.95) keeps the
stories alive by weaving Cobain in with
Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison,
Elvis Presley, John Lennon and Jerry Garcia,
finding connections between all seven
â&#x20AC;&#x153;rock immortalsâ&#x20AC;?â&#x20AC;&#x201D;their lonely childhoods,
their desire to escape and their sudden and
often suspicious deaths. Some, like Cobainâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s,
are scrutinized fiercely by this Santa Rosa
author, while others are retold with the
acceptance of timeâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s passing. Comfortâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s
ultimate success is an outline of the vagaries
of fame and how it delivers on its promise
for a price often mortally high.â&#x20AC;&#x201D;G.M.

B

ausalito art dealer Richard Polsky is
no schmo. He knows who to call at
the large auction houses like Christieâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s
and Sothebyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s, heâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s conversant with artworld insiders and he used to own a real
Andy Warhol. His Fright Wig work, so-called
because the self-portrait features Andy in
an on-end white wig, was a piece that made
Polsky glad to own, glad to look at. It did
what art can sometimes do: it made Polsky
actually happy.
But his wife was running up credit card
bills that were breaking him, and another
dealer was interested. Maybe Polsky should
sell the work, recoup a couple hundred
thou, pay Visa off and relax a little. After
some sleuthing, due diligence and thinking,
he did. And then the art market exploded,
and suddenly Warhols were commanding
eight figures, not six, and Polsky was left
out in the dust. In his chatty insider tome
â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;I Sold Andy Warhol (Too Soon)â&#x20AC;&#x2122; (Other
Press; $29.95), Polsky uses a conversational
tone to explain what happened in the art
market and how. For those who care about
the business of art with even the slightest
fervor they feel for works of art themselves,
I Sold Andy Warhol offers a fascinating

glimpse behind the walls of the galleries,
auction houses and museums that make
good art good business.â&#x20AC;&#x201D;G.G.

<

uch like a New Age female Harry
Potter, the heroine of â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;Schizandra
and the Gates of Muâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; by Laura
Bruno (International Renaissance Press;
$16), Schizandra Ginger Parker loses her
parents under tragic and slightly suspicious
conditions. Like Harry, she enters a world
of magical creatures and mysterious spirits
which help or hinder her attempts to fight
darkness and find the light in the universe.
Adding to the mystification are an addicted
cocoa-pod-popping, shift-shaping queen,
talking crystals and a galactic butterfly that
Schizandra encounters in underground
passages while in a coma-like sleep. Readers
get a blow-by-blow Tarot card/numerology/
astrological reading which explains the
heroineâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s back story, and how her ultimate
destiny will change the world when its
mythical end occurs in 2012.â&#x20AC;&#x201D;S.D.

0

collection of essays addressing the
needed marriage of two very green
issues, organic farming and wildlife
conservation, has been carefully collected
and edited by Healdsburg resident Daniel
Imhoff and Jo Ann Baumgartner. â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;Farming
and the Fate of Wild Nature: Essays
on Conservation-Based Agricultureâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;
(Watershed Media; $16.95) lends a forum
for luminaries such as Michael Pollan,
Wendell Berry and Barbara Kingsolver,
among others, to advocate for the need
to change current agricultural and
conservation practices.
The book is divided into four sections
which concentrate on such core issues as
the condition of salmon or bee populations,
the challenges of biodiversity, and finally,
the influences of society and culture on
agrarian practices and native wildlife. This is
Imhoff â&#x20AC;&#x2122;s second volume of essays published
through his own nonprofit Watershed
Media and the first collaboration with the
Baumgartner, director of the Wild Farm
Alliance, an organization which promotes
agriculture that aids in the protection and
restoration of wild flora and fauna.â&#x20AC;&#x201D;S.D.

5

orestville author and editor Barbara
Baer has been looking east a lot lately.
Under her own Floreant Press imprint,
she last published Pomegranate Roads:
A Soviet Botanistsâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Exile from Eden. This
year she gives us the novella â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;Grisha the
Scrivenerâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; (Ghost Road Press; $15.95), an
old-fashioned story of a midcareer journalist
with a gift for seeing occasional beauty who
is in search of many things, the true nature
of Mother Russia among them. Cynical
yet easily humbled, Gregory Gregorovich
Samidze of Uzbekistan feels lust and disgust
in equal measure as he navigates through
the shuttered world of mid-20th-century
Soviet malaise. Baerâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s language and eye are
striking as always, keeping her dense topic
as tightly woven as an excellent Tashkent
rug.â&#x20AC;&#x201D;G.G.

he most prestigious gross-out since
Irreversible, Lars von Trierâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Antichrist
is billed as a directorâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s return to
instinctive filmmaking. Von Trierâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s
â&#x20AC;&#x153;Your guess is as good as mineâ&#x20AC;? approach
includes comments such as â&#x20AC;&#x153;I let this film
flow to me instead of thinking it up.â&#x20AC;?
This might be the best way to take in
Antichrist, as a triple-X shocker, giving it merit
for its fussy surfaces and its unquestionable
power to disgust. And when von Trier
(Breaking the Waves, etc.) describes Antichrist
as a way back after two years of crippling
depression, it seems even more critic-proof.
Slamming it would be like mocking some
mental patientâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s art-therapy project.
Calling Antichrist â&#x20AC;&#x153;misogynistâ&#x20AC;? isnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t fair.
The man in the story (called only â&#x20AC;&#x153;He,â&#x20AC;?
played by Willem Dafoe) is a platitudinous
artist when heâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s not being a meat-pestle. And
the beastliness in the woman (called â&#x20AC;&#x153;Sheâ&#x20AC;?) is
a response to his power plays, his pretenses of
being learned and in control.
A truly misogynist film echoes Freudâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s
guess that women donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t know what they
want. She (Charlotte Gainsbourg) does
know. First, she wants her man; second, she
wants to fuck the pain away. Von Trier gives
women their due as forces of nature, even
from a superstitious peasant angle: are they
sorceresses, then, since they can create life?
(Did von Trier cast Gainsbourg because of

her resemblance to Margaret Hamilton, the
Wicked Witch of the West?)
As for Antichristâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s spine as a horror film,
no excuse is needed. Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s about the heebiejeebies caused by nature. She and He are seen
at the beginning, sexing it up vigorously in
ultra-slow-motion. Their toddler ambles in,
leers at the primal scene and then apparently
kills himself. She falls into a big orgasm just
as her child falls out the window. The dead
child is named, significantly â&#x20AC;&#x153;Nickâ&#x20AC;?; one clue
(and we get another) that this was the young
antichrist awaiting some fearful resurrection.
She stews in her own depression in a
claustrophobic apartment. He decides to
take up the role of grief therapist to his
mate. He is apparently a psychologist, but
we donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t know that for sure: all we know is
that He is not a doctor. The couple moves
to their cabin in a dank forest. It looks trollhaunted, with white slashes of birch trees
glowing in the gloom.
She hadnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t wanted to come back. She had
been holed up in the cabin, working on her
womenâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s-study thesis about the history of
crimes against women. He had called it glib.
The cabin is named, surely euphemistically,
â&#x20AC;&#x153;Eden.â&#x20AC;? The plot is a reversal on Genesis.
Seemingly, the sex act took this unhappy
couple back to Eden, where they are to be
punished by nature and each other.
Her desire for sex grows. Visions of
diseased, supernatural animals torment
the man, which include a ludicrous, rotting
talking fox, whose two-word growl, â&#x20AC;&#x153;Chaos
reigns,â&#x20AC;? could be the title of the next Spinal
Tap album. Things having got as sexual as
they can, terrible violence breaks out.
For no good reason, von Trier marks his
film out with episodesâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;is there a better
way to shake an audience out of a mood of
horror? But are we supposed to be horrified,
or are we supposed to think of this as an
intellectual exercise with nut-busting and
mutilation? Von Trier comes up with
downy, glossy images and then frames them,
freezes them down.
Von Trierâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s beefing against the fecundity
of nature, signified by the pelting of acorns
on â&#x20AC;&#x153;Edenâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;sâ&#x20AC;? roof, canâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t be taken seriously.
Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s like describing that scene in The Wizard
of Oz where the trees throw their apples as
a symbol of nature against man. We get so
many movies made by people who seemed
never to have set foot outside of a movie
theater, and von Trier is just another one;
thanks to digitizing, this wilderness is really
as composed as an English country garden.
The thesis could use an argument: such as
William Blakeâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s line that â&#x20AC;&#x153;the lust of the goat
is the glory of God.â&#x20AC;?
What makes Antichrist so frustrating is
that it has effective horror moments, such as
the Lovecraftian passage of He discovering
three new constellations in the night
sky. David Lynch has had more success in
filming this dream-journal-type material
and making it terrifying. When von Trier
mentions that Antichrist inspiration came
from August Strindberg, he lets us know
why this film looks overcooked even if it was
underanalyzed.
â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;Antichristâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; opens on Friday, Oct. 30, at the Smith
Rafael Film Center, 1118 Fourth St., San Rafael.
415.3454.1222.

interviews with Latino residents screen in the
lobby during the festive concert on Saturday,
Oct. 31, at the Jackson Theater. Sonoma Country
Day School, 4400 Day School Place, Santa
Rosa. 8pm. $25â&#x20AC;&#x201C;$32. 707.546.8742.

8 DI6I >

Set â&#x20AC;&#x2122;Em Up, John
There are bartenders and then
there are bartenders. First
settling behind the bar
at the Tradewinds in
Cotati in the 1970s, John
Gaines falls into the latter,
emphasized category.
Gaines listened to tales of woe and poured
stiff ones for three decades at the Tradewinds
before running Johnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Cafe at the Black Cat in
Penngrove; he is, as they say, an institution. But
even institutions can have health issues. Kidney
and liver failure have left Gaines with sizable
medical bills, and an all-day benefit featuring
Volker Strif ler, the Pulsators, Levi Lloyd, A Case
of the Willys, Detroit Disciples, Hillside Fire, Joel
Rudinow and more aims to raise money for the
ailing comrade. â&#x20AC;&#x153;He was just a constant,â&#x20AC;? says
the Tradewindsâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; current bartender. â&#x20AC;&#x153;It wasnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t a
Sunday morning with football without John.â&#x20AC;?
Leave an extra tip on the bar on Sunday, Nov. 1, at
the Tradewinds. 8210 Old Redwood Hwy., Cotati.
Noon. $10. 707.795.7878.

H6CI6GDH6

On Remembering
Spanning three special concerts, the Santa
Rosa Symphony Chamber Playersâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; Festival of
Remembrance is designed for its audience to
ref lect on and more deeply understand a trio
of historically significant events: Dia de los
Muertos, the internment of Japanese residents
in concentration camps during World War II
and the Nazi holocaust. Local musicians, a rabbi,
a journalist, an oral historian and local leaders
all contribute to the performances, replete with
audio-visual sets and art. The series kicks off with
pieces by acclaimed Mexican composers Carlos
ChĂĄvez (String Quartet no. 3) and Silvestre
Revueltas (String Quartet no. 4, Musica de Feria),
augmented by locals Trio Nuevo Amanecer.
Linda Lemus speaks on the holiday and recorded

C6E6

Boo!

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You canâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t
accuse the
members of
Grateful Dead
of not trying
to engage
world leaders.
As a member of the Bohemian Club, Bob
Weir has the opportunity to kibbutz with
the top dogs of insider politics and corporate
profiteering; as a member of Scaring the
Children, a side project with bassist Rob
Wasserman and drummer Jay Lane, he has
the opportunity to engage the Global Security
Institute, which was founded by Alan Cranston
and includes Mikhail Gorbachev on its board
of directors. Scaring the Children plays this
weekend in an acoustic concert presented by
the GSI to resurrect the terrifying truth that
nuclear weapons are destructive and immoral,
preceded by a forum including Kim Campbell,
the former Prime Minister of Canada,
disarmament expert Thomas Graham Jr., and
GSI president Jonathan Granoff on Sunday,
Nov. 1, at the Napa Valley Opera House.
1030 Main St., Napa. Forum at 4pm is free;
concert at 7:30pm is $75. 707.226.7372.

H 6 C G 6 ;6: A

Allâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Welles
In addition to Laughing Sal and Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s-Its ice
cream sandwiches, the fondly remembered
Playland at San Franciscoâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Ocean Beach also
inspired one of the most tension-filled film
endings in old Hollywood. The hall of mirrors
scene from â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;The Lady from Shanghaiâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; thrillingly

climaxes one of Orson Wellesâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; most plagued
moviesâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;he owed it to Columbia Pictures to
repay a loan, mindlessly pitched a nonexistent
plot, cast his estranged wife Rita Hayworth in
the lead role and admitted, afterward, that it
made little sense. But the film noir captures a
wonderful vision of San Francisco and, in some
scenes, the Sausalito waterfront. For a special
screening in San Rafael, Wellesâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; own daughter
Chris Welles Feder will be on hand to discuss
the film, her fatherâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s genius and her new book,
In My Fatherâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Shadow: A Daughter Remembers
Orson Welles. See film history come alive on
Monday, Nov. 2, at the Rafael Film Center.
1118 Fourth St., San Rafael. 7pm. $10.
415.454.1222.

C6E6

Trick or Treatment
Since Napa has no real gay bar, a group of
friends called Team Guerrilla bounce around
the valley hosting what they call the Napa
Guerrilla Gay Bar. The idea is simple: to
descend on a local pub or bar and make it â&#x20AC;&#x153;gay
for a dayâ&#x20AC;? with fabulous fashion sense and
even more fabulous dancing. So far, the group
has turned the disco out at watering holes as
varied as Henryâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Cocktail Lounge, Jonesyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s
at the Napa airport, Compadres Rio Grille,
Bardessono, the Centre Cafe and Panchaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s in
Yountville. Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s not just in good fun, eitherâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;
the idea raises awareness of a gay community
in Napa along with thousands of dollars
for the Napa Valley AIDS Walk. Hosted
by Kellie Green from the Vine 93.3-FM, the
walk features sponsored teams in Halloween
costumes, raff les, balloons, horse rides and
DJ Rotten Robbie. Better yet, it supports HIV
services at the Queen of the Valley hospital in
Napa, and it all happens on Saturday, Oct. 31,
at the Lincoln Theater. 100 California Drive,
Yountville. 10am. Free. 707.738.4040.

ast Wednesday, Oct. 21, at Hopmonk Tavern in
Sebastopol, the envelopes were ripped, the gold
record awards distributed, and we announced the
winners of the fifth annual North Bay Music Awards.
Thanks to all who came out to the Hopmonk Tavern and
made it such a sweet evening, and thanks especially
to the George Marsh Quartet, Arann Harris and the
Greenstring Farm Band and Body or Brain (whose
lead singer Jakey Lee is seen leaping up) for playing;
to Noah D for keeping it live on the turntables; to
Ricky Watts for doing live painting and helping raise
hundreds of dollars for Face to Face and Food for
Thought; to Brian GrifďŹ th and Bill Bowker from the
KRSH 95.9-FM for presenting; and to the Hopmonk itself
for having us back for another great year.
This year, we had over 2,000 people vote in categories
that were sometimes very, very close. Weâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re lucky to have
such a wealth of talent in the North Bay, and we salute
everyoneâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;winners, nominees and non-nominees allâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;who
continue to enrich the breeding ground of excellent music
in the area.
Without further ado, then . . .
Blues / R&B Michael Barclay â&#x20AC;˘ BonaďŹ de Blue â&#x20AC;˘
Linda Ferro â&#x20AC;˘ SoulShine Blues Bandâ&#x20AC;˘ Volker StriďŹ&#x201A;er
Winner: Volker StriďŹ&#x201A;er
Country / Americana Aaran Harris and the
Greenstring Farm Band â&#x20AC;˘ Poor Manâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Whiskey â&#x20AC;˘
Kevin Russell â&#x20AC;˘ Stiff Dead Cat â&#x20AC;˘ Trailer Park Rangers
Winner: Poor Manâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Whiskey
Dance / DJ DJ Amenâ&#x20AC;˘ DJ Jacques â&#x20AC;˘ DJ Malarkey â&#x20AC;˘
DJ Noah D â&#x20AC;˘ DJ Rob Cervantes
Winner: DJ Noah D
Folk / Acoustic Mr. December â&#x20AC;˘ Pink Sabbath â&#x20AC;˘
Serf & James â&#x20AC;˘ Peter Tracy â&#x20AC;˘ Way-to-Go Joes
Winner: Mr. December
Rap / Hip-Hop Ant D.O.G. â&#x20AC;˘ At All Costs â&#x20AC;˘ Cavity â&#x20AC;˘
Latin Hyper â&#x20AC;˘ Truthlive
Winner: At All Costs
Jazz Jason Bodlovich â&#x20AC;˘ George Marsh â&#x20AC;˘ Stephanie Ozer â&#x20AC;˘
Jackie Ryan â&#x20AC;˘ Wesla WhitďŹ eld
Winner: Jason Bodlovich
Indie Rock / Punk Baby Seal Club â&#x20AC;˘ Body or Brain â&#x20AC;˘
Litany for the Whale â&#x20AC;˘ Not to Reason Why â&#x20AC;˘ Semi-Evolved
Simians
Winner: Baby Seal Club
Rock / Metal Motogruv â&#x20AC;˘ David Nelson â&#x20AC;˘ the Pulsators â&#x20AC;˘
the Spindles â&#x20AC;˘ the Thugz
Winner: The Pulsators
World / Reggae Gator Beat â&#x20AC;˘ Markus James â&#x20AC;˘
Tom Rigney â&#x20AC;˘ Sol Horizon â&#x20AC;˘ Zydeco Flames
Winner: Zydeco Flames
See yaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ll next year!
Gabe Meline